January 29, 1863.
Col. T. H. Good, 4th Pennsylvania Vols.,
Commanding Post, Key West, Fla.
COLONEL: You will immediately send to this post the families (white) of all persons who have husbands, brothers or sons in Rebel employment, and all other persons who have at any time declined to take the oath of allegiance, or who have uttered a single disloyal word, in order that they may be all placed within the Rebel lines. The officer who will hand you this, will take such persons on board the steamer which carries him down to your post.
By command of Maj. Gen. D. Hunter, Very respectfully,
Your obedient servant,
ASSISTANT ADJUTANT-GENERAL.
“My God! Are they serious?” Steele raged. “What do they intend to do with these people after they take them off the island?”
Good shook his head. “It’s the thinking of a madman, Steele! They say the Key Westers have it too soft. The plan is to deposit them behind rebel lines and let them fend for themselves. And that includes your wife, I’m afraid.”
“And our son,” Steele added angrily. “Caroline would never leave without J.D.”
“And look at this!” Colonel Good handed Steele a petition with over six hundred names on it, demanding suspension of the order.
“You’ll have to go down there and straighten this thing out,” Steele reasoned.
“Yes. I’m leaving right away. I have to get there before they go through with this lunatic plan. I want you to come with me, Steele.”
“Of course! I’m sure General Heintzelman can spare me. Just give me time to throw a few things in a bag.”
While cleaning off his desk that morning, Steele came across a letter from Key West. It was from Maggie!
January 29, 1863
Dear Steele,
You got to get home quick! I reckon you know about that order. Well, it is worse than just that. Caroline has took real bad. Little Jeff Davis was playing in the garden yesterday and he got off the walk into the grass. Caroline went to pick him up and a scorpion bit her hand. I was shopping. By the time I come home, Caroline was swole up clear to her shoulder. Breathing comes hard to her. You got to come home quick, Steele! The doctor says he cant do nothing but wait and see.
Hurry, please, Steele!
Maggie
Steele Denegal and Colonel Good left by boat for Key West that evening. Although they arrived on February 22, while the evacuation steamer was being loaded, and were able to stop it, Caroline Mallory Denegal had died the day after Maggie wrote her letter.
Chapter 26
Lilah had no inkling as to why Steele Denegal had once more disappeared mysteriously from her life. She tried to put him out of her mind, concentrating on her mission as Antonia Ford’s aide-de-camp.
By early March, the two women had come to know John S. Mosby and admire him.
“The plans are set for early Tuesday morning, Violet!” Antonia confided excitedly. “Mosby and his men hope to catch General Stoughton’s staff unawares. Oh, it will be a triumph for us all!”
“Why, Stoughton’s quartered right down the street, Antonia. Won’t that be dangerous? For you, I mean? Everyone knows you and Colonel Mosby are on good terms. Won’t the suspicion fall on your head?”
Something about the plan nagged at Lilah.
Antonia laughed away her fears. “The whole town knows where Stoughton is. Why should I be singled out?”
Shortly after midnight on March 8, Mosby and twenty-nine of his rangers barged into the house where Stoughton and his aides lay sleeping. Without firing a shot, the Confederates captured the general, thirty of his men, and fifty-eight horses, then rode away with their booty.
The Washington newspapers screamed their outraged headlines.
Antonia giggled her way through breakfast that morning. “I told you, Violet! He did it!”
But Lilah’s fear mounted when two articles appeared in the paper, written by one of Stoughton’s men. The first only intimated that a woman in Fairfax was giving aid and comfort to the enemy. The second told her name—Antonia J. Ford.
“Antonia, what are you going to do?” Lilah cried.
Antonia only smiled. “Not a thing, Violet. They only suspect. They have no proof. We’ve been far too careful for that.”
At the same moment, Lafayette Baker, head of the Federal Secret Service, was in conference with a young lady. The Secretary of the War Department, Edwin M. Stanton, had made it clear to Baker he had better find out who supplied information to Mosby—or else.
“You understand what I want you to do?” Baker asked the dark-haired woman in her early twenties.
“Yes, sir. It’s perfectly clear,” she answered.
“That paper, if it exists, is the proof we need. She’s probably vain—most women are.”
She glared at him.
“Oh, I didn’t intend any insult by that. You know what I mean. It’s only that I’m sure she’ll want to show it off to you.”
The woman nodded, and rose to leave.
Later that day Antonia answered a knock at the door. She opened it to find a stranger on her doorstep.
“Yes? May I help you?” Antonia asked.
“Oh, I do hope so!” The woman was crying.
“My goodness, come in. What’s the problem, dear? I’ll fix you a cup of tea, and you tell me all about it.”
Lilah came into the room at the sound of a stranger’s voice. “Hello. I’m Violet Grafton,” she said.
“Winifred Courtland,” the woman managed.
“Are you one of the Virginia Courtlands?” Antonia asked, bringing in the tea.
“Yes, at least, married to one,” the woman answered. “That’s why I came to you. I received word that my husband has been wounded and is in a hospital behind Federal lines. I thought perhaps you could help me get a pass to go and see him—if he’s still alive, that is.” She broke into heart-wrenching sobs.
“Why did you come here—to the Fords’?” Lilah asked suspiciously.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Violet, don’t grill the girl. Can’t you see how she’s suffering? Of course I’ll help you, Winifred.”
Mrs. Courtland stayed on at the Ford home for several days, giving all the right answers to anything she was asked. But still, Lilah couldn’t shake off the feeling that all was not as it should be.
“I want to show you something I’m very proud of,” Antonia said to her guest one morning.
Lilah shot a warning glance at her friend. “Do you think you should, Antonia?”
“Violet, of course I should!”
She went to a small wall safe, opened it, and withdrew a document, officially signed.
“I’m a major. See? It says so right there,” she said proudly to Mrs. Courtland.
They all looked at it.
TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN:
Know ye; that reposing special confidence in the patriotism, fidelity, and ability of Miss Antonia Ford, I, James E. B. Stuart, by virtue of the power vested in me, as Brigadier General in the Provisional Army of the Confederate States of America, do hereby appoint and commission her my honorary aide-de-camp, to rank as such from this date.
She will be obeyed, respected, and admired by all the lovers of a noble nature.
Given under my hand and seal at the headquarters, Cavalry Brigade, at Camp Beverly, the seventh day of October, AD. 1861, and the first year of our Independence.
James E. B. Stuart
Brigadier General, CSA
“My, you are a brave girl, Antonia!” Winifred enthused. “And how clever of you to keep it hidden away behind that picture.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want it to fall into the wrong hands,” Antonia laughed.
By the end of the day Mrs. Courtland had left. Lilah’s feeling of depression deepened.
Two hours later Antonia looked out the window, and cried out excitedly, “Oh, Joe’s com
ing! Darling Joe,” she sighed. “He knows I love surprises.”
Lilah left the parlor so the two of them could be alone. She’d realized long since that Antonia Ford and Joseph Willard were in love, despite their different political views.
“How good to see you, Joe!” Lilah heard Antonia’s voice as she mounted the stairs. “And Sergeant Odell.” These words sounded confused—almost frightened.
“Major Antonia J. Ford,” Joe said in an oddly cold voice, “it is my duty to inform you that your arrest and imprisonment in the Capitol Prison have been ordered, pending your trial for treason.” Willard’s words broke with emotion.
Lilah watched as Antonia threw her arms around her lover’s neck. “No, Joe,” she sobbed.
He held her for only a moment, then removed her arms from around him, and said, “Don’t, Antonia. This is difficult enough as it is.”
Antonia stood in the hallway like a limp doll, then straightened herself. “May I go up and pack a few things, Major Willard?”
He nodded, then said to Sergeant Odell, “The wall safe behind that portrait of Miss Ford. Get the document for evidence.”
“Oh, Antonia!” Lilah cried, throwing her arms around her friend when she came upstairs. “Prison! How could they?”
The women cried, holding each other for only a few moments, then Antonia pulled away.
“You have to go now, Violet,” she ordered. “I’m caught, but you are not. Still, if you remain here, they are bound to drag you into it. Everyone knows how close we’ve been. Get rid of that wig. Put on your riding clothes, and head south on your horse. I have a pass in my room that will get you through the lines.”
Lilah hesitated. “Leave you? Now?”
“Go! Immediately!” Antonia ordered. “Joe will undoubtedly search the house. He mustn’t find you here!”
Reluctantly, Lilah Patrick left her friend, her wig, and Violet Grafton behind her, and sped away to freedom.
Nearly a month passed before she reached Savannah, exhausted, half-starved, but happy at the prospect of seeing home and children again.
Chapter 27
SAVANNAH, GEORGIA
December 11, 1864
“Jeff Davis rides a very fine horse
And Lincoln rides a mule.
Jeff Davis is a gentleman
And Lincoln is a fool!”
Lilah caught four-year-old Scottie up in her arms and shushed him. “Wheredid you learn such a song, son?” she asked in an accusing manner.
He stared up at her with his great, golden eyes. “King Solomon. He knows a lot of good things. Want to hear another one?” Then Scottie sang out before Lilah could stop him, “All de rebels gone to hell, now Par Sherman come!”
“My word!” Amalee shrilled, coming into the Ryan parlor in time to hear her nephew’s ditty. “He ought to have a good paddling for singing such a thing! Lilah, you’re too easy on that boy. Brandon would take him in hand, if he were here. God rest his soul!”
“Give Mama a kiss and run on to bed,” Lilah said to Scottie. “And no more of King Solomon’s songs! Promise?”
“Promise!” Scottie answered, pecking at her cheek.
Lilah flopped down in a chair with a sigh.
“Sherman’s coming, you know, Lilah. What do you plan to do about it?” Amalee went on in a grating tone, as if the Union general’s approach were all Lilah’s fault, and their salvation all her responsibility.
Lilah had had about all of her sister-in-law she could stand in the past months since she’d moved to Savannah. Just once, she thought, I’m going to put this complaining biddy in her place!
“What am I going to do about Sherman?” Lilah mused aloud. “I think I’ll pack up Ruth, Scottie, Oscar, Gertrude, Kingdom, Rhea, and Solomon and slip away to Rainbow Hammock,” she paused, then leaped to her feet and pointed a finger into Amalee’s face and shrilled, “and leave you here to protect us all! Sherman would turn tail and run after two minutes of your nagging!”
“Well, I never!” Amalee squinched up to cry. “That’s mean, Lilah. I’m just on edge.”
“You think I’m not?” Lilah countered. “Sherman’s been burning his way to the sea. Well, he’s here now, and there’s no reason to believe that his torches are suddenly going to go out. If only Mayor Arnold would go ahead with his plan. It just might work.”
“What plan?” Amalee sat up, all attention.
“Oh, nothing.” Lilah’d slipped. She couldn’t let her sister-in-law know anything about this, with her penchant for gossip. “I was only thinking aloud.” She got up and pulled a cape over her worn gown. “I’m going out for a while, Amalee.”
“You can’t go out alone, Lilah! What will people think? Why, it’s not even safe. The Yankees could come at any moment!” Amglee protested.
“Don’t worry. If I see Sherman in the street, I’ll tell him you aren’t receiving callers this evening,” Lilah replied.
She wandered along the streets, breathing deeply of the cold air. Although there was no snow, she was reminded of Fairfax. What had happened to Antonia Ford? She’d written, but received no answer.
After a half hour’s stroll, Lilah arrived at her destination, a now-empty cotton warehouse by the river. Major Randolph had made her activities as secret agent known to the town leaders. Because of this, she’d been invited to sit in on their private strategy sessions.
Mayor Arnold was speaking when she entered the barnlike building. “As I see it, we have no other choice, gentlemen. General Hardee believes he can build pontoon bridges across the Savannah River to Hutchinson Island and then across Back River to South Carolina. All troops will then evacuate the city by the back door, so to speak.”
“A damn lot of good that’ll do us!” a man near Lilah shouted. “Leave us defenseless here is all!”
“If you will kindly let me finish, sir,” Mayor Arnold said, his nerves obviously strained as taut as Lilah’s. “Once the men are safely away, I’ll head a delegation to go out and welcome Sherman to Savannah. Present it to him as a Christmas gift, if you will.”
“Shee-it!” cursed another man. “You gonna make us the laughingstock of the Confederacy!”
“Would you prefer to lose your city or a bit of your self-esteem, sir?” the mayor argued reasonably. “I believe the rest of the South will recognize this gesture for what it is. We’ll be freeing up troops for combat that would otherwise be captured or killed. And Sherman, monster that he is, could hardly bum Savannah if we give it to him—hand it over on a silver platter.”
Yes, Lilah thought. The plan makes sense!
No decision was reached that night, although vote after vote was taken. Lilah left for home feeling angry with the stubbornness of the men who put their pride above the welfare of the city and its citizens.
But the situation grew worse, not better. Scouts reported a few days later that seige guns were in place, their trajectory aimed at the very heart of Savannah. Although these monsters remained blessedly silent, heavy artillery shells pelted Fort McAllister. Savannah was surrounded, but still Sherman waited…. Still the town fathers haggled over a plan.
On December 19 the order came from General Beauregard: “Evacuate all troops from the city to assemble at Fort Jackson to be transported to Screven’s Ferry.”
Lilah watched from her window, her heart twisting, as the soldiers passed below in the bleak, cold night. Curses filled the air, and the constant clanking of horses’ hooves on the brick pavement struck a discordant note. A few men sang “Dixie” as they trudged toward the river. But most moved like silent specters. These troops, she felt sure, hated the retreat. After four years of service they were giving up their beautiful city to the enemy. A bitter loss!
Mayor Richard Arnold formally surrendered Savannah to the Federals on December 21, asking “the protection of our lives and property of the citizens and of our women and children.”
General William Tecumseh Sherman granted the request, then
sent a telegram to President Lincoln, announcing: “I beg to present you as a Christmas gift the city of Savannah, with 150 heavy guns and plenty of ammunition, also about 25,000 bales of cotton.”
The president received the message on Christmas Eve, and immediately wired back to his general with “Many, many thanks … and my grateful acknowledgements to your whole army, officers, and men.”
“My God, Lilah, you should see it out there!” Amalee sobbed. “The niggers and Yankees are taking over the city—robbing, insulting decent folks, even setting up camp right in our square. I can’t stand it!”
“Would you rather they set fire to the house?” Lilah asked, gazing out the front window of the St. Julian Street house at the scene her sister-in-law had described to her.
“I just want to die!” Amalee howled.
Ignoring her, Lilah said, “I hear Sherman plans to move into the Pulaski House tomorrow. He’s giving a party to celebrate his good relations with the citizenry.”
“Why, I’d slash my throat before I’d sit at that monster’s table!”
“You have a straight razor, I trust!” Lilah said, handing Amalee their official invitation to the general’s party.
“Oh!” Amalee cried. “But I don’t have a single decent gown to wear.”
“I’m wearing black—for Brandon, for Savannah, for the Confederacy,” Lilah replied, leaving the room.
Savannah’s leading citizens turned out for the dinner and ball at the Pulaski House, by military order. Lilah glanced about her, nodding to Mayor Arnold, Mrs. Nellie Gordon, Charles Green, who was acting as General Sherman’s host, and not a few of Amalee’s in-laws, the Duprees. Then her eyes came to rest on the general himself. She studied his lean frame with the blue and gold of the Union army hanging loosely on it. His eyes seemed sunk deep into his skull. Anger and agony carved lines up out of his beard.
“It isn’t polite to stare, young woman!” he said in a growling voice.
Rainbow Hammock Page 32
